


Ashes to Ashes

by writernotwaiting



Series: Under Pressure [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: (defintely Thor), Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Hurt/Attempted Comfort, Loki is a mess, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Violence, non-con (not Thor)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 11:50:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15072548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writernotwaiting/pseuds/writernotwaiting
Summary: In the middle of an argument (chapter three of Look Back in Anger) Thor laments to himself about his brother, "How many times have I bailed your ass out of trouble?" Here is one of those times. For a complete happy ending, please read the main fic.Though this is a side story of Look Back in Anger, it will probably make sense on its own, if for no other reason than it's Loki and Thor.





	Ashes to Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> “Ashes to ashes, funk to funky,  
> we know Major Tom’s a junkie,  
> strung out in heaven’s high,  
> hitting an all-time low.”  
> David Bowie, Ashes to Ashes (Scary Monsters)
> 
> Thank you, pedeka (for helping me deal with Thor's anger issues) and icybluepenguin (for all sorts of things).

“Thooorrrrr!”

“Mmmff! H‘lo?” Thor fumbled with his phone in the dark, answering on autopilot.

“Thoooorrr. Hey! How’re you?” The voice that came through the line was slurred and lilting with a false euphoria.

Thor rubbed his eyes and pulled back from his phone to check the time. Next to him a warm body shifted in bed and sighed as the fog rolled around in his head. “What the . . . Who is this?”

“Thoorrr,” came a plaintive reply, “it’s meee, you know who this is.”

And then he suddenly did know. _Goddammit_.

“Fuck, Loki. I just went to bed an hour ago. Why the fuck are you calling me?”

“Jus’wanted to see . . . to see how you were doing, brother mine.” Through the phone, Thor could hear muffled noises in the background—bass thumping from several rooms away, knocking on a door. Meanwhile, the body tangled in the sheets next to him mewled a little sound of annoyance and shifted closer.

Thor hissed into the phone, “What the hell do you think I’m doing at three in the fucking morning? Where the fuck are you?”

He was sitting straight up in bed by now, fully awake—anger simmering on a low boil, but something seemed . . . off. The knocking at the other end of the line seemed to get louder and he thought he could hear someone calling his brother’s name. They didn’t sound happy.

“I went ouT. party. So boring, Thorr. These cretins’re boring. So I called you. What else would I do?” Loki slurred his words—not sounding stupid drunk, but he sure as hell wasn’t sober, either.

The voice in the background got a little louder, too, “hey, pretty boy! I know you’re in there. You owe me somethin’.”

Vague alarms went off in Thor’s head but his concentration wasn’t helped when a pair of warm arms wrapped around his waist. He heard some vague noises through the phone and what sounded like Loki mumbling away from the phone, “fuck you, bastard, just—god! just leave me ‘lone.”

Suddenly the perfume that had smelled so enticing a few hours ago felt cloying. Thor raised his voice, “Loki, seriously, where are you? What party? What have you been drinking?”

Loki’s voice got clearer—he must have moved the phone closer to his face. “No drinking. You know what big house. You were, you were here last week. Just wanted to call you.”

The banging stopped and Thor heard Loki stifle a disturbing little sound in the back of his throat.

“Are you in trouble? Do you need me to come pick you up?”

“No it’s fiiine. Door’slocked. Just wanted . . . just wanted to talk.”

He heard a door slam open, something thumped close by, and Loki’s voice let out a vaguely hysterical noise that quickly got cut off with a quiet, “shit!” There was a hissed whisper that sounded much too close for comfort, _Hang up, faggot, you’re done now._

“Loki!”

“He’s busy now,” came a strange voice.

“Loki?!”

No answer.

“Jesus fuck!”

“Whatsthematter, babe?” The arms around his waist tightened as Thor’s callback went straight to voicemail.

“Shit. I gotta go.” Thor disentangled himself from his partner, and groped around her floor for his discarded clothes. He started to turn back and apologize for leaving, but she had already passed out again. At least they had wound up at her place and he wouldn’t have to kick her out in the morning.

 _Fucking hell_.

What had his little brother gotten himself into this time? And how the hell had he known what goddam party he had gone to last week? And why had he gone there this week? Jesus, that place had been a shit hole. Thor pulled on his pants while he walked through the dinky apartment, found his keys in the living room, and ducked out the front door.

It was only 3:20 when Thor walked through the front door of the run-down two-story. As he made a bee-line for the stairs, a lazy voice called after, “Party’s over, man, go home.” Four doors upstairs—the bathroom; one bedroom door hanging open, room empty; one quiet; and another with clearly suspicious noises coming out of it. Thor went for that one.

“Jesusfuck! Loki!”

Some bruiser in a Wal-mart-knock-off university t-shirt with blond hair and perfect teeth turned to sneer at him, “Wait your turn, dude.” He had his brother shoved face first into the mattress, arms wrenched behind his back, pants around his knees, and was buried balls deep in his ass—was that blood?

Thor’s vision narrowed into tight focus—the ratty blankets, peeling wallpaper, and the thumping bass from downstairs disappeared as the ringing in his ears blocked out all other sounds. All he could see was his baby brother crushed under the weight of some anonymous poseur. Every muscle in Thor’s body clenched with a sudden rush of adrenaline as he surged forward.

Roaring like an animal, Thor grabbed the back of his shirt, tearing the guy off his brother, before Thor decked him full force across the face. Everything moved in slow motion—Thor felt the crunch of cartilage under his knuckles. He fisted the jersey into a handle, pulled him back up off the chair he’d crashed over, and then reared back for another blow. The guy managed to land a couple of hits, but Thor didn’t stop thrashing him until noises from the outside world cut through the fog of his anger. Voices from down below were shouting, _keep it down, man!_ and he picked up half-hearted noises of protest from his brother behind. Thor let his victim drop to the floor and turned around, still tingling from the hormones pumping through his system.

“Jesus, Loki.”

Loki was just sort collapsed onto his side, eyes part-way closed, legs curled up, but his arms still limp beside him, and the side of his face beginning to swell.

“Shit. Let’s get you out of here. What the hell were you doing here? Is there anything broken?” Once he'd gotten a mumbled negative, Thor slowly pulled his brother to the edge of the mattress and lifted him to his feet. Loki whimpered as his legs nearly folded underneath him. Thor braced him by settling himself under one of Loki’s arms, then he slowly eased his pants up.

“Can you walk?” Loki gave him a mumbled moan that amounted to a partial affirmative, so Thor half carried, half dragged him out to his car. Finally at the curb, he leaned his brother against the car to unlock it, and told him, “I’m taking you to the emergency room.”

That finally got a coherent response. Eyes wide with panic, Loki pleaded, “Fuck no, Thor.”

“Are you kidding me? Look at you.”

“I’ll . . . shit,” Loki scrubbed his face with his hands, wincing when he touched the growing bruise, “ . . . I’ll be fine.”

“You need help, and you need to file a police report.”

Loki’s eyes went wider, and his voice became even more insistent, despite that fact he was still slurring his words, “No! They won’t, they won’t do anything! No. You want to be arrested for assault? God, no. Thorr, just, just take me home. Please?”

Thor looked at his brother. He looked absolutely pitiful, terrified in fact—his pupils were dilated from whatever drug he’d either taken or been given, his left cheek going purple; he had winced with ever step he took to the curb.

“Please, Thor.”

Thor heaved a sigh and gave a malevolent look up at the house they’d emerged from. They really shouldn’t linger. It wouldn’t be too much longer before that asshole made his way down the stairs, and though he wasn’t likely to call the cops, Thor was not excited to take on all of his housemates.

“Fine. I’ll take you to mine and help you clean up.”

Loki nodded and breathed out his own sigh before opening the car door and gingerly lying down across the back seat. Thor drove them back to his own little craphole apartment, brain finally moving slowly enough to begin processing the last hour’s events. Thor had no illusions about Loki’s self-destructive tendencies, but he was supposed to be doing better, wasn’t he? Hadn’t the doctor put him on meds? Hadn’t their parents—ok, their mother—sunk hundreds of dollars into therapy? He supposed he should at least be grateful his brother would still call, though god knows every conversation seemed to be a land mine, every topic a potential trigger, especially if Loki discovered Thor had been seeing anyone.

That stopped Thor up short, and he mentally kicked himself, remembering the phone call that started everything, _“you were there last week_. _”_ Yeah, he had been there last week—lured in by Fandral, the promise of free beer, and some tight skirts. _Goddammit, Loki_.

Well, at least Thor had no roommates to ask awkward questions when they stumbled into his apartment. He was more relieved than ever that his earlier distraction was at her own place and not his.

Once inside, Thor eased Loki down onto the couch, pulled off the Doc Martins, and covered him with a blanket. He dug out a wash cloth and cleaned Loki’s face with warm water before Loki shooed him off, annoyed and exhausted. “Just let me sleep, Thor. Please?”

He rumbled in frustration, “Here, at least take some ibuprofen before you go to sleep—help the swelling.” And Thor relaxed when Loki gave him that one concession before curling into a ball and closing his eyes.

Finally, Thor settled himself up the lounge opposite. He pulled out his phone again—4:40am. “It’s a good thing today’s Sunday,” he mumbled, as his own eyes slid shut.

 _We’ll talk in the morning_ , Thor promised himself. _I’ll just wait until morning_.


End file.
